


In Wine, There's Truth

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Festivals, First Kiss, M/M, More Joy Day Fest, Mutual Pining, Post-Break Up, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: Rodney overindulges at an Athosian festival, and drunkenly confesses to John. It's up to John to decide what to do about that.
Relationships: Jennifer Keller/Rodney McKay, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 18
Kudos: 122





	In Wine, There's Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nagi_schwarz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/gifts), [SherlockianSyndromes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/gifts), [smiles2go](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smiles2go/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Истина в вине](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109084) by [WTF Drink And Bite 2021 (DrinkAndBite)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrinkAndBite/pseuds/WTF%20Drink%20And%20Bite%202021)



> In celebration of More Joy Day, for my friends nagi_schwarz, SherlockianSyndromes, and smiles2go!

_This is one of the disadvantages of wine, it makes a man mistake words for thoughts._ (Samuel Johnson)

John lost track of Rodney.

In his defense, the Solstice celebration was pretty wild. The Athosians knew how to throw a party, and this one had been filled with food, music, games, storytelling, and gallons of ruus wine.

Jinto and Wex had insisted John join them for a game of football with the other young men, after which there’d been celebratory seed cakes and berry-infused water from the nearby spring. And then Marta challenged John to an axe-throwing competition against the other members of the Athosian militia; she’d kicked his ass.

And then Teyla was at his side. “You should see to Rodney. He has regretfully overindulged.”

“Anything I need to apologize for?”

One of the reasons John tried to keep an eye on Rodney at harvest festivals and other celebrations was because he was naturally inclined to say or do the wrong thing, which often meant offending their hosts. Adding alcohol into the mix was like tossing gasoline on a bonfire.

“Not yet,” Teyla said, sounding amused. “I believe he is finally dealing with his breakup.”

John let out a sigh. He’d been hoping to avoid another bout of failed relationship commiseration. Rodney and Keller had broken up almost a week ago, and Rodney had seemed to be okay with it. John should’ve known better.

“Can’t you talk to him?”

“I have tried. I am, as you say, tagging you in.” Teyla gestured to the far side of the bonfire before walking away.

“Nice use of the vernacular,” John muttered.

Once he was a little farther away from the action, it was easy to pick Rodney out from the other partially shadowed people also sitting around the fire. He was the one singing horribly off-key, a tune that was vaguely familiar to John.

“Ruus, ruus wine. Stay close to meeeee.”

Rodney was sitting on a log, swaying and clutching a stoneware jug of wine.

“Hey, buddy.” John sat next to Rodney. “What’s going on?”

“I was wrong,” Rodney warbled. “Now I find, just one thing makes me forget.”

“Okay. That’s good. Can you stop with the singing for a minute?”

Rodney squinted at him. “John. Hey.”

“Hey. Can I have some of that wine?”

Rodney held the jug protectively. “No. Mine. Mine wine. Wine mine.” 

He giggled, which John found disconcerting. Rodney was really, really drunk, more than he’d ever been before. Understandable, considering how long he and Keller had been together.

“You drinking your sorrows away?”

“Sorrows,” Rodney agreed. “Constant sorrows. I am a man of constant sorrows.”

“Uh huh.” John held out his hand, wiggling his fingers, and Rodney reluctantly handed him the jug of wine. “I think we’ve had enough of this.”

“You know the worst part?” Rodney asked.

“Hangover?” John guessed.

“Idiot. McKays don’t get hangovers. We can hold our liquor.” Rodney looked down at his empty hands. “Oh.”

John waited, thinking maybe Rodney might have dozed off, but then he seemingly got a second wind and started singing again.

“Ruus, ruus wine! It’s up to youuuu!”

“McKay,” John said in the tone that usually stopped Rodney mid-rant.

Rodney blinked at him. “The worst part is I had the perfect woman and she still wasn’t enough. The sex was incredible.”

John grimaced. The last thing he wanted to hear about was Rodney’s sex life, although knowing he was back to not having one was a small comfort. One he tried not to think about too closely. Not thinking was something he did a lot where Rodney was concerned.

“Jen could do this thing with her leg –”

“I get the idea, thanks. I don’t need a visual.” John steadied Rodney, who nearly flipped himself backward off the log.

“Not enough, though. If she’s not, no-one is.”

Time for John to do the supportive friend thing. “There’s someone out there for you, buddy. You’ll find her.”

“Well, she won’t measure up. No-one does, not next to you.” Rodney looked at his feet. “Where’s the wine? I need more wine.”

John’s skin flushed hot, and it had nothing to do with the fire. He reminded himself that Rodney was drunk, and his normally high-functioning brain was impeded. He clearly didn’t know what he was saying.

“I think it’s time to put you to bed. Let’s go.”

John stood and pulled Rodney up with him, which was no small feat since the man wasn’t doing anything to help. 

“I bet you’re great in bed,” Rodney said, leaning heavily against John. “All that lean muscle and boneless leaning. For a skinny guy you have a great ass.”

John quickly glanced around, but if anyone heard what Rodney said they didn’t give any indication. “Keep your voice down, McKay!”

“Great ass,” Rodney repeated, this time in a stage whisper. “Not as great as mine, but that’s just genetics.”

John practically dragged him away from the bonfire, in the direction of the huts that were reserved for visiting guests. John had a tent set up for himself, but Rodney always insisted on an actual bed off the ground.

He tried very hard not to think about Rodney in that bed, naked and thinking about John’s ass.

“You know the worst part?”

“Everything that comes out of your mouth.”

“You don’t go for guys. Shame, really. I’m not as flexible as Jen, but I have moves. Really good moves.”

John had to tug on Rodney’s arm to keep him from attempting another demonstration. If only he knew how very much into guys John was, or how much not thinking he did about Rodney’s great ass. But Rodney had never given John any indication of his interest.

Had he?

“Don’t lemme be alone,” Rodney sang. “My blue, blue heart.”

“Thank god,” John muttered when the huts came looming out of the darkness, candles glowing in each one. “You need to sleep it off, McKay.”

“If I was brave I’d ask you to stay.”

“If you weren’t drunk off your ass, I just might,” John replied without thinking.

“That’s a thing to say. Oh, hey. My bed.” Rodney dropped down on it, face first, and was out like a light in seconds. 

John covered him with a blanket. There was every chance that Rodney wouldn’t remember a thing about the party from the point he started hitting the sauce – that ruus wine had a hell of a kick to it – and John wasn’t sure if he wanted that or not. Nothing about his feelings for Rodney was ever cut and dried.

Maybe he’d stick around for a little while. Just to make sure Rodney didn’t choke on his own vomit or fall out of bed and crack his skull.

*o*o*o*

John woke to something poking him, hard and insistently, in the shoulder.

“Ow. Quit it.”

“Did you sleep sitting up? How does that not tweak your back?”

John stretched, his spine popping, and turned his head back and forth to work the kinks out. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep next to Rodney’s bed, and was embarrassed to have been caught there.

“You sound like a decrepit popcorn maker,” Rodney observed. He was still lying on his stomach, head propped up on one arm

“And you sound way too lucid for a man who tried his best to destroy his liver last night.”

Rodney looked smug. “McKays don’t get hangovers.”

“Yeah, so you said.”

“And you said you’d stay if I wasn’t drunk.” 

John winced. So much for Rodney getting blackout drunk. “McKay –”

“I meant what I said last night.”

The funny feeling in John’s stomach was probably just hunger. “You said a lot. Sang, too. Which you shouldn’t ever do again.”

“Oh, ha ha. Everyone’s a critic.” Rodney poked him again. “I meant everything I said. If you want to pretend it was all the wine, I understand. You’re emotionally constipated and have years of idiotic military programming to undo. I shouldn’t have –”

“Rodney.”

Rodney’s jaw snapped shut and he looked at John with wide, earnest eyes. John didn’t know what he was going to say when he opened his mouth, but he was starting to feel like he was about to break the sound barrier. The resulting sonic boom could change everything.

“In vino veritas. Isn’t that what they say?” John was having a hard time catching his breath. And then Rodney grinned at him, big and bright, and everything inside John settled.

“Your Latin pronunciation is terrible.”

“I’ll work on that,” John replied. “So…”

“Audaces fortuna juvat.”

Before John could ask what that meant, Rodney was leaning over and kissing him. The morning breath was especially rank after all the ruus wine, but John was more focused on the press of Rodney’s lips against his, something he’d only ever fantasized about during the long, dark nights when he couldn’t sleep.

Rodney’s grin was exceedingly smug when he pulled back. “When we get back to Atlantis, and I’ve had a chance to clean up, I’ll show you those moves I mentioned last night.”

He waggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous fashion, and John couldn’t help but laugh. It should’ve been terrifying, taking such a huge step, but it felt normal. It felt right.

And hopefully they’d never have to sit down and talk about it.

_Accept what life offers you and try to drink from every cup. All wines should be tasted; some should only be sipped, but with others, drink the whole bottle._ (Paulo Coelho)

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Title is a quote from Pliny the Elder. I was listening to the radio and [Red Red Wine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXt56MB-3vc) came on, which led to thoughts of drunken Rodney. And another fic was born! LOL!
> 
> I’m gifting this to three amazing online friends, who I’ve now had the pleasure of meeting in person. We chat daily and my life has been enriched in countless ways by these three people. And I don’t need to be drunk to confess how much I love them! ::grins::


End file.
